


Crystalline

by Khadgarfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, CHAMPYUN, Hate Sex, M/M, Masturbation, short fic, uhhhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadgarfield/pseuds/Khadgarfield
Summary: :^)
Relationships: Magni Bronzebeard/N'zoth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Crystalline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrollSweat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrollSweat/gifts).



> we do this thing where we take turns writing mini fics/art with prompts each week. I misunderstood the directions for this one.

Magni feels her voice resonate through his molecules - It’s been this way ever since his transformation. Sometimes, it rages like a tempest storm, tearing through his consciousness and making it hard to think. Other times, it feels like a breath of wind, whispering in the heart of forests that are as much made of magic as made of trees. Lately, though, her voice is strained under the weight of the Old one. He is a hidden cyst, buried in her flesh, and now he has been drawn to the surface he throbs, all the way to the core. Magni feels him pressing there every moment – his presence hangs over him like a dark cloud, obscuring the sky on a mountainous horizon.

Sometimes, in the darkness, in the hollow in the earth where he keeps his home, he can sit for a moment in solitude and focus on it. He unfurls the weariness that clasps it tight, like an oyster clasps a pearl in its meat, and runs his consciousness along the edges where the root of the creature is bruising her dreaming soul. He knows it better than he knows even his own life story, that the God and the Titan are locked together now - they are a timeless mythology of creation, echoing the days when the firmament was not separate from the ground, and the only thing that could tear them apart was a universe bursting to life between their forms. Magni wonders what universe will be created when N’zoth and Azeroth are torn apart now. What atoms will be split? What chaos will become unbridled? What dust and shrapnel will fill the space that previously, was fusion?

Exhausted by his pondering, Magni lets the walls of his mind collapse. They fold under the burden of his long days, his talking to adventurers, his negotiating with kings, all done while he suppresses the ache in every one of his particles. He is tired. So tired. His chamber under the surface of the world is small, and quiet. Every hour, he longs for the stygian dampness of solitude, and of harmony with the stone and the blood of his charge. When he is there, he feels the only calm, and when he is there, he has the opportunity to think freely again. He thinks idly that the closest feeling he can compare this to, the unrelenting knit where two beings are collided, is the long forgotten feeling of fucking. Or making love. Indeed, as he lies in the dark and deep, he does think he can feel a stirring in him that reminds him of arousal. Her arousal? Or his own?

His numb skin feels nothing as he walks his fingers over his diamond body, but his nails strike against his legs and the vibrations spread through him like a tuning fork hitting at a note. The fragments of matter which make him up jostle, they ring with something akin to sensation. Magni can feel the life force of the universe itself humming in him, he feels his resonance echo like a bell ringing in the night. Against his will, he is harking to that corrupted being, who is omnipresent even as it exists far, far away.

Shadows billow around his vision, purple and boundless even in the heart of the dark. They are warm. They are enveloping. They draw him in, and he sinks beneath them like an animal trapped in an ocean of tar. It’s hot in here. High pressure. It reminds him of his transformation, and of the incredible might of the earth manipulating his muscles and his bones. The sensation is coursing up and down him now, waves of undulating bliss, a tide of relief. He hasn’t known relief like this for so long, and he lets himself succumb to it entirely.

Magni can feel the eye of N’zoth on him. He can feel the burning orange light, the touch of ancient damp, the unspoken. There is a ghost between his legs, a tension he remembers but only in the way a person remembers a smell of something they used to like a long time ago. It isn’t clear enough to fully manifest, but it’s absolutely clear enough for Magni to groan and twist in the grip of dark tendrils that seemed to be crushing around his limbs. The weight of the Old God is terrible. The thrum of the old life is strong. Even cast in nebulous shadow it is truly, unmistakably, divine.

Release, climax, a moment of revelation, shatters his breath even as he mimes it. The ecstasy finds origin in his core, between his stout carbon legs, and every single bond that makes him up harmonizes sweetly with each other. Waves of delight shudder through him. It feels like it will never stop. He crests and sinks and crests again, and then, in the aftermath, there is silence. A crack cuts through one of his thighs with a startling pop, much like the fractures cutting through his patience. Magni remains prone in the earth, dizzy, dazed, and weightless in the aftermath. 

He hopes he needn’t wait much longer, before N’zoth is wrest from Azeroth’s breast.

**Author's Note:**

> i played it straight because i am nOT A COWARD why do u think
> 
> xoxo your friend garf


End file.
